Paranoia
by Kavery12
Summary: Edward Elric and Roy Mustang under the same roof. Al must have been involved.


I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Edward Elric tried. He really did. But when your little brother was as clueless as a kitten and twice as sweet, you couldn't help being suspicious of anything and everything that crossed your path. Because somehow, some way, Al's kindness was going to come back to bite either or both of them in the butt. Really, picking up kittens was fine. Picking up Lin was a touch worse. Out of all the hungry, passed out deadbeats, Al _had_ to choose the one that was obsessed with immortality, was a Xing prince and willing to accept a homunculus into his body.

But this took the cake.

Sure, he was wet, sopping wet, in singed shirt sleeves and shivering forlornly on the curb, watching the fire crews put out the fire that had consumed his house, courtesy of a pissed off terrorist. And goodness knows that more experienced people, male and female, had caved to those pretty black eyes. But Ed was made of stronger stuff. He was going to resist. To the very end, because taking him home with them was tantamount to surrender, both to the wet personage and Al.

"Al, you _cannot_ take it with you. Someone else will adopt it and love it. Really. I'm sure Hawkeye will look after it. No matter how pathetic it looks right now, she'll come to get it."

"Brother, Colonel Mustang is not an it! Nor is he a pet!"

"We don't have room in the apartment and I will _not_ voluntarily sleep in the same room as him unless Hawkeye is standing over me with a gun." Ed crossed his arms, staring at the smoldering mess and watching the wintry sun sink swiftly down into the horizon. "You know that Lieutenant Hawkeye is visiting her parents today and tomorrow. We have the pull-out couch. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to ruin everyone's holiday."

And the Elrics didn't do holidays, was the unspoken statement. Well, they exchanged presents and such, but they didn't leave Central unless on a mission – hence Ed investigating a potentially alchemical fire that happened to consume his _favourite_ (dripping sarcasm here) colonel's house.

He made the mistake of glancing over at Al, who despite the helmet managed to make Ed feel like he'd kicked a puppy. Into a puddle. Of green, noxious goo. He was on duty until he'd cleared this fire. He and Al had already done their little exchange. So really, he could live in the library until Hawkeye returned day after tomorrow. Ed looked up again. Oh boy. Al really wanted to help out. He'd ratcheted the pleading look up to "Ed just abandoned an entire crate of kittens on the outer wall of Briggs." "There's always the pull-out couch."

Ed sighed, rubbing his forehead, knowing, knowing, _knowing_ that he was going to regret this with every fibre of his being. "You owe me. And if he makes any short jokes, he's out to room with Hayate at the kennel. Got it?" "Thank you Brother! And look at it this way. The colonel will end up owing you big time." Al scuttled off happily.

There was that. Mustang would owe him. He sighed wearily and kept poking around the edges of Mustang's modest brownstone property. Someone had used basic lamp oil as an accelerant, rather rudimentary, really. Mustang had said that he was reading upstairs right after dinner. He had smelt smoke, but by the time he was downstairs, the first floor was already ablaze.

That Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, couldn't contain the blaze, but had to work with the fire crews to put out a house fire, said something. Which led Ed to believe that there had to be more to this fire than just lamp oil. Lamp oil may have started it, but Ed had to root down around the still-warm ashes, down to the foundations of the house to find what he was looking for. Under the charred floorboard, back near the door, there was a faint, almost burnt away inscription.

Ed rocked back on his heels, scrutinizing it carefully. Some enterprising little soul who _really_ didn't like Colonel Mustang must have broken into the house on a regular basis, scribbling out these dandy little transmutation circles, drying out the wood and infusing it with nitrogen, causing them to go up like matchsticks. And if Mustang hadn't have been home, the proof would have been gone. Even Ed might have missed the circles, focused on the lamp oil, convinced that some irritated punk tried to torch a random house.

"Interesting," Ed muttered to himself, copying out the circle in his book before carefully cutting out the charred circle as evidence. "Someone likes Mustang less than I do!" He'd turn the circle over to Hughes, who would use his considerable, vast and mystical (aka scary) information sources to ferret out the alchemists capable of inventing this rather specialized circle. Then Ed would probably have to go after them and figure out if they hated Mustang enough to try and burn his house.

He pocketed the book and carefully turned over the chunk of wood to a soldier, instructing them to keep their eyes peeled for more of these circles. He looked up to spot Al waving cheerfully beside a drooping and tired Mustang, raising his eyebrows. Ed knew Al was convincing, but Mustang was the master of slipping out of tight spots. He knew Al wanted Mustang to come home with them, but he figured Mustang would have wanted to find one of his many girlfriends.

Ed grumbled his way over. "Al, I'm good to go. I'll submit a report and request to Hughes in the morning. Lead the way?" he gestured, wanting to talk to Mustang. Al practically skipped ahead while Mustang readjusted the ill-fitting, standard-issue jacket given to him by the fire fighters. "I'll be straight up since I'm tired and you look like hell. Why did you say yes to Al?"

Mustang glanced over at him, a hint of humour hovering in those tired black eyes. "Simple. If the person tries to come after me again, you two are the closest thing to indestructible and unstoppable. That and you're as paranoid as Havoc." Ed bristled for a moment and then consciously relaxed. "Well, the paranoid part is true. And I'm glad to see you have enough morals to keep a psychopath away from your dates. But if Al ends up-" Mustang cut him off. "He won't. I'll catch this freak and throw him into the dankest, darkest cell I can find."

Ed nodded. Couldn't ask for more than that.

Al had vanished into the distance, beating the older pair to the tiny military-kept and paid-for, third floor apartment that they crashed in when they were in Central. He met them at the door, the lights already on, beaming a warm welcome. "Colonel, why don't you jump in the shower and Ed, you transmute the Colonel some new clothes." Al's red eyes bored through Ed and he sighed. "The clothes are coming out of the curtains, Al. I'm _not _transmuting my awesome spare coat for the bastard Colonel."

Mustang chuckled lightly and nodded thanks to Al. "I'll take you up on that." Al practically bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. "I'll make dinner!" Ed sighed, waiting for the shower to kick on before fishing out two pairs of beat up black jeans, a few of his old shirts and a spare set of sheets, making up the couch and transmuting a simple set of slacks and a t-shirt to the specifications of the tattered, smoky clothes Mustang had neatly hung on the door.

Mustang surprisingly did not complain about the clothes. Or the bed. Or the food. He didn't even make any short cracks. It had Ed twitchy by nine o'clock, especially when Mustang started playing chess with Al. When Ed started flipping through all the books stacked in the corner of the living room, Mustang sighed and apparently gave up.

"Fullmetal, I know my politeness is wearing on your little nerves, but if you don't quit, you're going to have _Al_ jumping at shadows." Golden eyebrows drew together, knitted over a thunderous frown. "WHO" he began, but was immediately interrupted when their cantankerous neighbor thumped on the wall, "Who," continued in a hiss "are you calling short?!?!" Mustang smiled sweetly. "I'm really not sure. I can't see you over the couch. Come around and climb on the footstool, maybe then I can tell for sure."

The weekend went downhill from there.

By Monday, Ed and Mustang were at each other's throats and Al was wringing his huge hands distractedly. They stormed to work, banging into the office at the same time. Fuery jumped a mile high and Hawkeye raised a fine eyebrow, discreetly asking. "My house burned down and I had to stay with Fullmetal and Al for the weekend." Mustang growled shortly, glaring at Ed. They had had a spat over Cheerios at breakfast, Mustang asking if he needed help hopping through the little 'o'-shaped cereal.

Havoc snorted, trying desperately to rein in his laughter while Breda choked on his coffee. Hawkeye sighed and stared at Ed, who was rapidly drumming his automail fingers over his crossed arms. "Ed, why don't you look into that engineering alchemy you wanted to? I'm sure the Colonel will have _no trouble_ clearing you for library work all week?" she offered smoothly. Mustang turned purple for a moment. "How come he gets-" Hawkeye stroked her gun. "Right. Have fun, Fullmetal," and every word was dragged kicking and screaming from his mouth.

"Now sir, tonight why don't you go home with Havoc. Then you two can go out on the town." She kept suggesting sweetly as she pointed Mustang towards the office. Mustang promptly disappeared into the depths of the paperwork.

Al was left standing forlorn in the middle of the office. "Fuery, you and Hayate take Al for a walk down by the park. And don't come back until lunchtime," she added in a whisper. Al bobbed his head, speechless, following a sympathetic Fuery like a little lost kite. "Poor kid," Havoc managed through his chortles. "The colonel and the boss know how to respect each other and how to cover each other's backs. But they'll never get along under the same roof."

At lunchtime, Mustang was dropping off a few late papers when he bumped into Ed taking a tray back to the library. They didn't say anything, but they exchanged a small smirk.

Al wouldn't be picking up anything bigger than a kitten for a _long_ time. And that's just the way they both wanted it.

After all, the only person more paranoid than Edward Elric was Roy Mustang.

Think of this as earlier in the series, before Al is more "grown up," as it were. I know he's Ed's partner and equal now, but I just had this picture of Al picking up some dangerous hitchhiker…and how Ed would have prevented it. Mustang's house burning down was just…convenient. :)


End file.
